Life Short. The Italy Cup

I was looking for a specific book,
on my non-specific book shelves,
and decided it was time for a break before I threw something.
I made myself an espresso,
with one sugar and a tad of milk,
using one of the the hand painted cups I bought in Italy,
easily about 20 years ago.
I could see the the shop so clearly,  the length of it,
the shelves on the left where the cup was.
(I bought three, why not 4? It’s a mystery.)
Life is filled with mysteries.
I still haven’t found the book.